


My Charlotte

by crystalphobic



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Apotheosis, F/M, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, Roadtrip, bill is everyones dad, sam is not a good husband
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalphobic/pseuds/crystalphobic
Summary: The story of how they got from Charlotte deciding to divorce Sam to Ted introducing Charlotte to his mother. With lots of extra steps inbetween.
Relationships: Charlotte/Ted (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	1. Part 1: Maybe Together We Can Get Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> this is all just an elaborate scheme to get people to accept that Fast Car is a CharTed song
> 
> enjoy!

Charlotte and Ted always get off work at the same time now, despite working in different departments.

By January of 2019 this has become a fact well known throughout the CCRP Technical office.

Totally unrelated, Ted now owed Melissa a huge favor.

Equally unrelated, Charlotte has stopped wearing her wedding ring.

  
  


Bill asked about it a week after the change was made and Ted said he rearranged their shifts for convenience; he and Charlotte were carpooling.

When Paul remarked that carpooling with just two people didn’t seem that environmentally friendly Ted shot back with “What, did the Greenpeace Girl finally recruit you?” and left it at that.

Melissa didn’t ask. She understood.

Any time Charlotte could spend with Ted was time she didn’t have to spend alone, or worse, in the apartment where Sam might be.

It all started the week before Christmas.

* * *

  
  
  


It was Monday, the 23rd of December, 2018.

After she clocks out at 5 for the last time this year Charlotte heads home, feeds her cats, gets a snack, changes into her nice clothes and goes to see her husband. 

Correction: she goes to see the couple’s therapist  _ with _ her husband.

Another correction: she goes to see the couple’s therapist in the hopes that Sam actually shows up.

He doesn’t.

He hasn’t for the last 4 sessions.

When has she last seen the man she’s supposed to be married to?

She doesn’t recall.

Even though it’s supposed to be Christmas- the most wonderful time of the year for partners. Couples. Married people.  


  
  


Surprisingly, when she turns the corner coming from the bus stop, there’s a light inside the apartment. Their apartment.  _ His _ apartment. He was in charge of rent, after all.

Charlotte made it as far as the second out of three flights of stairs before she picked up on it- the remarkably melodic female voice she occassionally hears on the other side of Sam’s 'important phonecalls'.

Except it’s not on a phone right now, but physically coming from inside her home.

She doesn’t panic as much as might be expected of her, but she did pull out her phone in a hurry, almost dropping it to the floor.  
  


There is no planning, no thinking involved in what she’s doing, so she goes straight for the number that’s listed last in her most recent calls.

She hears it ringing upstairs. Shortly after the call is rejected there follows a flurry of swears- the loudest of which belonged to Sam, she’s heard them often enough- and some thuds near the door.

The lady was wearing heels.

Charlotte was still wearing her flats with a ribbon on top.

She didn’t know how to feel about that dichotomy.

In the end the heels were all she saw of her. As Charlotte was waiting near the bottom of the staircase a pair of black 4-inch heeled boots passed her, stopped for a second, and then hurried outside at a faster pace.

Charlotte stayed plastered to the wall until the smell of roasted coffee beans left the hallway.

She saw Sam, sitting in the kitchen, for the first time in days after what felt like an eternity of walking up the stairs and unlocking the door. He was drinking coffee out of a cup she recognised easily; it was from Beanie’s.

Whether she’d made the decision right then and there, in the minutes before, or even further in the past didn’t really matter.  
  


Instead of a ‘Hello honey, how was work?’ or a shorter ‘Hi sweetheart.’ or even a ‘Who the hell was that woman?’ the first words she said to her husband that week were “I think we should get a divorce.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Charlotte shows up at Ted’s place at 6:30 pm sharp on most days and leaves at 6:30 the next morning.

On Monday, the 23rd of December she doesn’t come in at 6:30.

  
  


Ted noticed she was spending more time at his apartment than her own at the end of the year. He didn’t mind. 

It was winter and he got very cold sleeping by himself, so her presence was welcome and appreciated.

Plus it wasn’t like he had any right to complain when her  _ company _ , too, was pretty damn pleasant.

They got through seasons after seasons of tv shows ranging from silly to serious, discovering they had very similar taste in sitcoms.

Over the course of two months they even read a book together. It’s no James Joyce’s  _ Ulysses  _ but it was still a rather long yarn. Though, as he was curled up on the couch with her, Ted couldn’t bring himself to complain about the length of the novel at all.

  
  


Sometimes she brings groceries and they cook together, working in a comfortable kind of silence or singing along to the radio.

Sometimes he makes dinner, heating up the oven as soon as he gets home and slaving away at something ridiculous and fancy and  _ delicious _ only to dismiss it as ‘no big deal’ when she compliments the food.

She makes breakfast. There is no ‘sometimes’. Even on days he doesn’t get to  _ see her _ before he wakes up he does get some french toast waiting for him on the kitchen table.

He routinely has to banish the thought that he’d rather have her than the breakfast as he sits down and savours every bite.

Because even if they watch DVDs cuddled up on the couch and have fun messing around in the kitchen and even if she makes him breakfast every day for the entire last half of 2018- she never stopped leaving at 6:30. 

  
  
  
  
  


In the beginning she’d still text him every time she planned to come around.

When ‘coming over’ became the norm over ‘not coming over’ she stopped texting him and just showed up.

The only times Charlotte would end up notifying him of her whereabouts were when Sam was having a ‘good day’ at councelling and thereafter demanded she cook dinner for him.

Which is what he imagined must have been the case on the 23rd. 

Who knew, maybe the man got caught up in the holiday spirit after a solid four week streak of not giving a shit about his wife.

  
He found it odd at first. Either she came in at 6:30 or she texted him. There was no inbetween, no other option. 

Until now, apparently.

His attempts at rationalising the situation didn’t stop the rising bad feeling in his gut. It was the last day before Christmas festivities really kicked in- and they both knew they might not be able to see each other for a while. 

Why, out of all days, would she not tell him that she wasn’t coming  _ today _ ?

After pacing the living room for a minute he’d calmed down sufficiently to heat up his leftovers and started to think about packing.

He was leaving early next morning to visit the family, so he’d have to pack up before sleeping for a few precious hours. 

He couldn’t waste his time thinking about Charlotte when he had shit to do. 

Ted had to berate himself for that often enough when he was at work- just dying to go on another smoke break because he knew Charlotte would take hers soon.

8 pm rolled around and the doorbell rang. He’d been folding the same shirt for the third time in a state of mental absence due to worry and denial of said worry. 

He double checked his phone and reassured himself that he had received neither texts nor calls from anyone who might come to see him.

But the mystery doorbell prankster didn’t give up after one ring.

Ted had played Ding Dong Ditch often enough in his youth- and early adulthood, when he was sufficiently not-sober- but he didn’t appreciate it when the dumb kids from the apartment complex across the street tried to pull the prank on  _ him _ .

Still, he knew the rules, he knew the game, so he dutifully went to open his door, preparing a good baffled-face. At least that’d take him off the pranking list for a week or so.

When he did open the door, though, the surprised drop of his chin was genuine.

Ted wasn’t one to notice subtle changes in mood, generally speaking, but it was different with Charlotte.

He could tell when Sam had said something awful to her and she needed comforting. And he knew when she was excited to show him something; pictures of her cats, mostly. 

It was rather easy to spot when she was in a good mood- all smiles and ‘sweethearts’- but there were less obvious tells too, for when she was bored, annoyed or otherwise unhappy.

And Ted prided himself on being able to accurately pick up on most of them.

He’d never seen her tell for ’absolute nervous breakdown’, but given the collected data he was pretty sure this might be it.

Her hair was loose without a bow to give it structure, the usual cat sweater had been replaced with a fancy blouse that had a fresh coffee spill all over the front and her hands were shaking.

On the bright side; she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring.

* * *

  
  


Sam had never done Charlotte any intentional physical harm.

There was that one time when they were building an IKEA shelf and he dropped a hammer on her foot right after hitting his own thumb. Back then she was crying tears of laughter along with her husband, not tears of pain.

They had been married for less than a year at that point.

She didn’t know when things actually started to change.

Was it when she took in the cats without his permission? Was it when Charlotte got promoted and he was still stuck with being a traffic cop? Was it when he met the other woman?

Or was it when Charlotte met Ted?

  
  


The mustached man in the wickedly ugly shirt and tie combo didn’t start out as her lover.

They worked in different departments and were introduced at the annual CCRP Technical cookout.

Even though Sam couldn’t make it to the barbecue she still proudly wore her wedding band. If she’d been paying closer attention back then she would have noticed Ted more; a sour expression flashing across his face every time he caught a glimpse of her ring.

They started chatting around the water cooler after that day. There wasn’t much to talk about, but it beat sitting with the guy in the throes of divorce and the new hire.

Charlotte eventually included Ted in her coffee run to Beanie’s.

He protested, saying he didn’t like coffee, but her solution was to simply get him a new kind of drink every time she went out.

It started with lattes, went on to cocoa, various hot chocolate variations, until she got to tea.

He was quite sure she must have gone through the entire menu to find something he liked.

She did.

One fine day in summer- around the same time they first met- she brought him something she called Chai Ice Tea.

And he was hooked.

  
  


The years between their first encounter and current situation were a blur in Charlotte’s mind, yet she kept wondering when it had all gone wrong.

The couple’s therapist suggested she stop thinking about the past and work on the future, but then again that couple’s therapist didn’t know what she  _ felt _ for Ted. And the guilt those feelings gave her.

Where Sam had become cagey and secretive Ted was open to the point of painful honesty.

Going home knowing she’d have to be around Sam had her heart sinking more and more over the years, but knowing for certain that she’d get to be with Ted made it sing.

Sam never cooked. Ted had made her chicken noodle soup when she was down with the flu.  
  


Charlotte had loved Sam at some point.

But she loved Ted, right now.

Charlotte knew Bill had forgiven his wife when he found out she was cheating on him- more than once, with more than one person- but he demanded a divorce after he caught her sneaking in a lover while Alice was home, watching tv in the living room.

He described it as a decision, not a moment of revelation. He’d had multiple moments, across many years, it just happened to make sense to him at that random time.  
  


She also knew she couldn’t compare their situations, but the way he explained it suddenly made more sense to her now than it did back then.  
  


Here, in the kitchen of her husband’s apartment, that she’d shared with him for the better part of a decade.

The smell of coffee was oppressive, but it didn’t suffocate her the way it did in the hallway. She didn’t move, not even when Sam got up from his chair, eyes wide, looking straight ahead.

“Char- what the fuck?”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


One of Sam’s hands was gripping the edge of the table firmly, the other still held on to the cup of coffee. His expression was unreadable- even for a girlfriend, fiancee and wife of multiple years.

“I just think it’s what’s best for… us.” She dropped the ‘baby’ and the ‘sweetie’ from her vocabulary in this conversation.

“I mean, we haven’t done anything the counselor said we should try to do… so counselling is working out  _ real _ swell for us. We don’t talk, we don’t see each other, and-”

_ And we both let some strange figures into this apartment. _

It remains unspoken. He understood regardless.

“We… do not make each other happy.”

_ I don’t love you anymore. _

“And I think it’s important we both admit that.”

_ You already knew. All along. _

“...Sam, are you gonna say anything?”

Sam, in fact, did not say anything.

With the composure of a hardened agent of the law he stepped away from the table and moved towards her.

He had put on his sunglasses- even though they were inside- and she knew, for some reason, that he wasn’t concealing tears.

Maybe it made looking at her easier.

“Get out.”

He pulled her over once while she was driving home. He had given her the whole ‘Please step out of the vehicle, ma’am.’ spiel in his best cop voice, and they both laughed about it later that evening.

She had a feeling she wouldn’t laugh about this.

“Get out? Sam I  _ live _ here!”

“Get the FUCK  _ OUT _ !”

The plastic and flimsy cardboard of the cup couldn’t withstand the force of his grip as he squeezed it just a little too hard, and in an instant hot coffee splattered everywhere.

Judging by the yells and curses he let out Sam had gotten most of it on his hand, but a decent amount of it was spread over the floor- and Charlotte, whose nerves had officially run out.

While her still-husband was cursing the pain away she took the ring he put on her finger and let it drop on the ground, where it landed in a small puddle of coffee. Whether this was an action of defeat or a breaking of chains she couldn’t tell just yet.

“...I’m going.”

She wasn’t thinking all too straight, considering she had every opportunity to gather some belongings but simply elected not to.

She had a phone and a wallet and a destination.

Paul lived with his girlfriend now, she wouldn’t want to intrude. Alice moved out to go to college so Bill had a spare room, but she really didn’t want to be around Bill right now. He’d tell her he told her so, and that wasn’t want she wanted.

What she wanted was Ted. And now she felt more than free to have him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“... I told him I want a divorce.”

“A div-eugh-what?”

Thoughts still racing, Ted not-so-gracefully tripped over his tongue.

First he assumed he was sleeping, since that sentence was something he only heard in the sweetest of dreams. 

Then again, in his dreams Charlotte usually didn’t stand trembling in front of his door looking like she’d just gotten back from a quick trip to hell.

  
  


“A divorce.”

“I  _ heard you _ the first time- Why? Why  _ now _ ?”

Even though it wasn’t his intention Ted ended up sounding just as deeply confused as he actually was. So much for keeping a calm and cool face.

“Just- just come inside, you’re freezing. It’s freezing. Why are you outside without a jacket?”

Without much ado he grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her into the hallway, closing the door behind them. It was only marginally warmer in there, so he stayed close and rubbed over her shoulders for a bit. 

He’d get her warmed up properly after some questions were answered; he might not like the answers, though.

“Sam told me to leave so I-”

“He kicked you out? The fucking bastard- and without a jacket!”

“No, no! I left, he didn’t force me out. I didn’t think about the weather. I just wanted to-”

“What? Freeze to death?”

“Ted!  _ No _ . I wanted to see you.”

That shut him up real good. 

  
  
  


What Ted did was less of a double-take and more of a quintuple-take. It took him a solid half minute before he could produce sound again, and a soft laugh promptly escaped him.

“So uh- so what, you went straight to my place after leaving your husband?”

“Yes.”

Ted wasn’t sure if that made him the luckiest man alive or the most pathetic man alive; it did make him happy, though. 

While the jury was out he did allow himself to kiss Charlotte. He was still holding her by the shoulders, so all he had to do was lean down for a second.

It took neither of them by surprise.

  
  


He had successfully moved them into the living room by the time he was able to pull himself away from her lips for a while. 

Ted’s halfway packed traveling bag still sat there and he bent over to move it and make room on the couch.

“You’re packing?”

“Yeah uh- I’m going to see my mom. Holidays.”   
“...oh.”

The sad look on her face made him remember what he’d blocked out during their short makeout session- the reason why she’d showed up in the first place.

There was no stopping himself before he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. 

Something that, deep down, he must have thought would make her happier.

“You can come with me. Get outta Hatchedfield. Together.”

If it did make her less sad it didn’t show on her face immediately; it was definitely more shocked than sad now.

“Together?”

“Together. The car’s waiting. You can put on one of my shirts. If we leave now we’ll be there tomorrow morning.”

The rational part of Ted’s brain was desperately trying to shake him, slap him, do anything to make him stop saying things he might regret. 

Meanwhile the part of his brain that was utterly and completely in love with Charlotte- the majority, really- just wanted to ensure he could keep her as close as possible and not let go for a long time.

“...Alright. Let’s go.”


	2. Part 1.5: And I Had A Feeling That I Belonged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short but sweet chapter to bridge the angsty and non-angsty part of the story
> 
> more is coming

They got out of Hatchedfield.

The hours on the interstate were silent, save the gentle humming of the radio.

Charlotte remained as taciturn passing the state line as when they passed Sam’s apartment on the way out of town.

It felt like everything that neede saying had already  been said , but waves of words still wanted to pour from both their mouths.

He’d thrown the bare essentials into his travel bag- wallet, keys, the roadmap- while Charlotte took a shower. They got into the car right after he lent her one of his less ugly shirts to wear instead of her coffee stained one.

It was  wordlessly  decided that she’d much sooner die than go back into that asshole’s apartment  just  to get a change of clothes.

For all he cared it was her shirt now.

She looked breathtaking in it.

He thought about telling her roughly 6 times  just  in the first hour of the trip, but that’d  require  breaking the silence. He wasn’t willing to do that.

What he was willing to do right now, after 5 hours of straight driving, was check the signs on the side of the highway for the next exit . The one that’d lead them to their first stop.

The motel.

Ted knew from experience that the drive from Hatchedfield required him to rest up for a while, and his car  simply  wasn’t built to be slept in  .  This left him with little to no alternative besides booking a cheap-but-not-shitty motel room for one day every time he made the trip .

The owners of his inn of choice were friendly, and he could admit to himself that he enjoyed his stays here.

Even though it was his first time doing so nobody in the building questioned it when Ted came in accompanied by a woman  .  If anything, they were glad to finally see the resolution of the betting pool from the year Ted got stuck in the inn because of heavy snowfall, got piss drunk and told them all about Charlotte .

He’d  barely  had the chance to clear his throat when approaching the reception before a key  was handed  out to him over the counter . The old lady at the desk only gave him a kind smile as he mouthed a thank-you and headed to the room with his number on it.

Charlotte was behind him.

He didn’t bother to check; he was holding her hand after all.

Maybe  that’s why the old lady was smiling.

The chime of the key and the flicking of the light switch inside the room were quite  possibly  the loudest sounds he could imagine at the time .

The noises of the car had become muffled the longer he drove on the straight line that was the interstate.  Now that they were out of the car and back in an environment that warranted communication and coordination...Ted wasn’t sure what to do with himself .

There was no real reason to unpack.  They’d be here to sleep until morning, get some breakfast and be on their merry way; and that’s all the room  was equipped  for anyway .

The sparse furniture included a cabinet, tv, mini fridge and, of course, a bed.

A singular bed.

He dropped the bag with their belongings in front of the small cabinet and froze.

Was this part of the deal?

Sure, he said she  was done  with Sam. And that she wanted to see him , and nobody else, in this  incredibly  difficult time of her life.  And she agreed to leave everything behind for a while and stay with him over the holidays, a time one spends with family and the closest of friends .

But did all that entail sleeping together in a bed?

They’d done it before, on more occasions he’d ever care to count, but that non-sexual form of intimacy between them was fresh and delicate, and he didn't want to mess it up .

He’d never demand it, of course- if she wanted to sleep in the bed by herself she was  absolutely  in her rights to do so. It’s not every day you break up with your husband and get roped into a cross county roadtrip by your lover. She deserved some privacy.

Then again, she was  obviously  still upset, and Ted knew how  positively  she reacted to the comfort of having him beside her when they slept together before. Not to mention how cold it was.

He’d given her a jacket- because he wasn’t a monster- but he didn’t think to pay extra for a cosy, warmed motel room, and those covers looked thin.

To share or not to share?

In all his quandering for answers to this very existential question he neglected to notice how Charlotte had already gotten into bed .

“Ted?”

He’d be lying if he said the sound of his name didn’t make him flinch.

“Yes?”

“Would you please get in here? It’s pretty cold.”

Ted relaxed. This was Charlotte. She wanted him there.

“Yes.”

He slipped under the covers, not bothering with setting an alarm on his phone- it didn’t matter when they got up. Ted wasn’t scheduled to arrive at his family home until afternoon and they’d left far earlier than expected.

Charlotte had been right- the motel bed was cold. But it was  reasonably  soft and, hey, he still had her.

“C’mere. I’m still worried about you catching a cold because of the bastard.”

“Hush. You wanted to get up in a few hours, right?”

“Well, yeah, but it doesn’t really-”

“Shush! It’s  just ...I want to sleep. I'm tired."

“Your wish is my command.”

What  was left  of the night passed without incident.

Ted did wake up once, though.

There was a weight on him, and at first he believed it was  just  some weird new form of sleep paralysis; until he heard gentle snoring coming from right on top of his chest .

Charlotte hadn’t  just  crossed over from her side of the bed like she did  occassionally , oh no.

She  was wrapped  around him  tightly  like a second, very adorable blanket.

Relieved of any worries of sleep paralysis demons or the ceiling coming down to crush him Ted went back to sleep .


End file.
